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DON'T HATE THE SUN

THE INCIPIT

The wedding dress on the bed is so white its brightness blinds me only
to look at it. My mother can’t stop admiring it, touching it. She’s elated, her
hands tremble slightly as she caresses it.

I understand her excitement, even though I don’t share the sentiment.
Unlike me, she married for love, and had to fight for the right to marry my
father. An Irish woman marrying an Englishman was even rarer then than it is
now.

She turns to look at me, her eyes bright with tears. “Come on, Ailin,
try it on. We have to see if it needs taking in again.”

I nod, submissive and obedient. The two maids are hovering round me,
trying to be helpful. I look at them and they are like two excited little
girls, perhaps even a little envious.

Slowly I undress and glance at my reflection in the mirror. My pale,
scrawny body looks like an unripe fruit, still too immature to welcome a new
life to its womb, and yet it’s something I have to prepare myself for. As a
good wife, it will be my duty to provide Ethan Mills, ward of the Collins
household, with an heir.

I slip the wedding dress on and notice the disappointment in my mother’s
face.

“Oh, Ailin!” she gasps. “I can’t believe it. You’ve lost even more
weight!”

She lifts my skirts and looks at my legs. I have one foot resting on top
of the other and I'm nervously twiddling a lock of hair. I have bright red
hair, typical of my Irish roots, but lately I'm so pale, that the colour of my
hair accentuates my much - hated complexion even more.

My mother tugs my dress down, but her scolding is softened by the
sweetness of her expression. "Don't stand like that, it makes you look funny,"
she says, patting my cheek. "Stand up straight. You're the daughter of an
English baronet and you should always behave accordingly."

"I promise I'll start eating like a man and build myself up for the
wedding."

She strokes my face, affectionate as always. "Do it for Mr. Mills.
Always be pleasant and affectionate. Never take a man's love for granted,
because, once you've disappointed him, it won't be long before he turns his
affections elsewhere."

She orders the maid to take the dress away and, reading my expression as
only a mother knows how, she walks over and raises my chin with her fingers.
"My darling, I know why you're so sad and I imagine that’s why you’ve lost
so much weight."

I lower my face to hide the tear that runs down my cheek. I've tried so
hard not to worry her, to not worsen an already complicated situation.

"Oh, Mama. I miss her so much. My life is so empty without
her."

She hugs me and kisses the back of my neck and for a moment I feel loved
and protected. I've been lucky, and this makes me feel less guilty.

"Everything will work out just fine, darling. Ethan is doing his
best to find her. That boy has been a Godsend for our family, you couldn't ask
for better." She pats my cheek one last time, then leaves the room,
leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I throw myself down on the bed, my hands behind my head, and for a
moment a smile touches my lips.

My mind goes back to my beloved Ireland, how in the mornings when I woke
I'd lean out of my bedroom window and breathe in the cool, crisp air, the
fields a boundless expanse, spreading out as far as the eye could see. If I
stretch out my hand I can almost touch that green velvet carpet and I imagine
the soft grass between my fingers.

In the distance, the rocky peaks of the mountains were so pointy, like
the sharp teeth of a ferocious beast, that as a child they scared me. A river
ran near the house, the colour of the water reflecting the colour of the sky. It
flowed past calmly, deceptively, and majestic rows of cypresses rose up from
its banks.

My eyes will never see such harmonious nature again, or perhaps they
have become blind to the beauty that also exists here. After all, it was in
America that I lost my cousin.

Things took a turn for the worse when my father, suffocated by his
debts, found himself in danger of losing the family home and the few acres of
land that were left. It was Ethan who advised him to sell up and follow him to
America, the promised land. I'd met him at one of the many balls my father
dragged me to in the hope of finding a suitor who could ease my family’s
disastrous financial situation.

At the ball that evening, Ethan Mills had all the women eating out of
his hand, so much so that the huge ballroom echoed with the sound of their
ridiculous giggles.

He really was strikingly handsome.Alongside the other men, his height, his athletic build and polite
manners, placed him instantly at the centre of attention.

He approached me, scrutinising me with blue eyes that were so pale they looked
like ice, swept a lock of blond hair behind one ear and winked. I immediately
looked away in embarrassment, concentrating on the dance floor.

"May I?" He attracted my attention once more with an impudent
smile that showed a row of white, regular shaped teeth, his lips so full they
were almost feminine. I accepted out of good manners and as soon as we began to
whirl around the room, the elegance of his posture and his dancing skills
became obvious.

I still remember what he said because it struck me so much, it remains
engraved in my memory: "I think such a charming woman deserves a better
dress."

With just one line he had woefully reminded me just why I was there: to
remedy the poverty that would soon strike my family.

Such irreverence annoyed me, or perhaps what really annoyed me was the
fact that I needed rich men like him.

My cousin Brigida couldn't stand him and was furious when he showed up
at my home: my father had invited him as soon as he sensed his interest in me.

I was torn, I still am. Despite my misgivings, I gave in to his charm,
just like those silly, cackling women at the ball. I was flattered that a man
like him found me beautiful and wanted me for himself. However, I'm still
daunted by what Brigida thought. She was always convinced that Ethan wasn't the
right man for me because he seemed so devious.

My father was adamant, however, and organised the engagement in a flash,
already anticipating the end of his debts while Ethan Mills was set to gain a
noble title to increase the prestige of his rich American family.

But now the shadow of that cursed day when my father called me into his
study looms over us. I remember how my heart skipped a beat when I saw my sweet
mother sobbing uncontrollably, her eyes red and swollen.

I couldn’t move, unable to speak for the lump in my throat. Even
breathing was difficult.

My father, who seemed to be the only one who hadn't lost his head, was
the first to speak. "My dear, we have to leave Ireland. Your uncle and
aunt were killed this evening during a reprisal. They have paid with their
lives for daring to rebel against the hunger their landlord had driven them to.
We're also in danger, you know yourself that I supported the rebellion. Ethan
is going to take us to America."